Chaos Personified
by Fiara Fantasy
Summary: Jack takes Ianto home after some unexpected events following the cannibals, and nothing he discovers about the man is like he expected, but perhapes the evening could end well anyway.


Jack wasn't sure what possessed him to go downstairs into the depths of the hub but he trusted his instincts. They usually didn't lie and tonight was no exception.

The closer he got to the showers the sound of running water met his ears and suddenly stopped. He paused in the hallway and listened as barefoot foot steps tapped down the hallway and into the locker room.

He slunk after the sound, wondering who it was. Every member of his team had been traumatized one way or another and their behavior patterns were way off and hard to read. Jack stopped again just outside the door and listened. The footsteps were light enough to be any of the team and they tapped back and forth in measured amounts. Someone was pacing.

Jack grinned to himself, intending to sneak up and surprise his victim, and turned the corner quietly, but his shoe squeaked on a wet footprint. And Ianto had spun around and shot him through the eye before he realized it was him.

Resurrection was a bitch Jack had decided long ago. Coming back hurt like hell and that was surely the work of a sadist. He'd learned, with much practice, to keep the noise the first breath made to a minimal and most importantly not to scream. He opened his eyes and saw Ianto sitting across from him with his back against the bench and his knees against his chest. Jack stared.

Ianto was beautiful. The gel had washed out of his hair, letting the small curls show and the front flopped over his forehead unchecked. The effect was marred by the dark bruises over his entire body. Pale skin whined with reds and purples and a line of the brightly colored blotches trailed across his jaw like the paint covered caress of a careless child.

He had the gun Jack suddenly remembered being shot with cradled in his hands and pointed towards his head.

"Ianto," Jack whispered, not wanting to startle him into pulling the trigger.

Ianto froze, even more still if that were possible, then zombie-like raised his eyes to meet Jack's gaze. He went white and started to shake, causing his fingers to slide from the guns trigger.

Jack was awake now and quickly snatched away the gun, setting it behind him on an opposite bench before sitting next to Ianto on the floor.

Ianto was staring steadily at the white tiles like they held the meaning of life. Jack suddenly realized Ianto was naked, tired, and shivering with cold. He quietly reached for a towel and draped it over Ianto's shoulders.

"Thank you. I'm cold. It's very nice of you but you're dead. I shot you. There's blood on the floor."

Jack would have spoken; said anything to stop the dead voice that didn't belong to someone that beautiful and barely more then a boy. But Ianto didn't stop.

"It's not like I don't hate you. I think I hate you. I think I should. I wanted to hurt you but you don't just kill your own boss. I wish it would all stop hurting. Why won't it?"

_Shock. He's in shock._

Jack carefully moved to sit closer to Ianto and tugged the other man's head down to rest on his own shoulder, wrapping his arm around him as he did so. Ianto sighed.

"You're really very warm for a corpse."

Jack fought back a shudder at the word. Ianto's body was cold next to him but his own warmth was slowly reversing that. He focused on the heartbeat inside his chest; his own way to tell himself he wasn't a corpse even though he felt dead inside sometimes. He really should take Ianto home and make him sleep. He'd just have to move first and he was still dizzy from the shot and his eye ached horribly.

He shut the achy eye and scanned the locker room with the other, looking for Ianto's spare clothes.

On the next bench was a pair of acid washed blue jeans and a long-sleeved, grey, t-shirt. He stretched to grab them and dropped them into Ianto's lap.

"Can you dress?"

Ianto nodded mutely and started to pull the shirt over his head. Jack stood up to give him some space and fought down the swaying from being shot, unconsciously throwing out a hand to steady himself. He resisted the temptation to stare while Ianto twisted on the floor to pull the jeans up his legs, but couldn't help watching out of the corner of his not-sore eye. He was mostly human after all.

Ianto just sat on the floor when he was done dressing, as if he couldn't think of what to do next. This was one of the parts of his life Jack hated, having to watch people barely more than kids have the light in their eyes put out.

Jack pulled Ianto to his feet and started walking down the hallways and up to the paved world of oblivious civilization. Ianto followed him silently, his even steps making no sound as usual.

They stepped out of the fake tourist shop and started across the centre, Ianto finally coming out of his shock a little and taking the lead, because Jack really didn't have any idea where the other man lived.

They turned two corners and walked for quite a while before Ianto stopped in front of an inconspicuous black door on a shabby street Jack wouldn't have pictured as somewhere Ianto would live. Jack looked around carefully before following Ianto inside and shutting the door.

Jack started to memorize his surrounding partly out of habit but mostly because of curiosity. There was a short tunnel-like hallway with uncovered lighting in the ceiling then a large room.

Jack stopped and stared. This really wasn't what he expected. He could tell from the outside that it was a two story flat but half the floor of the second story had been removed so that it seemed to go up an unusually long time. The floor, or maybe ceiling, of the basement was also missing.

The wall to his left suddenly held him captive. It was also painted a dark liquid black, but angry splashes of paint covered it from top to bottom as if the bright colours had been hurled with no plan of a picture. There were large splashes of blood red, trailing drops of cobalt blue, thin swirls of gold, and patches of green, indigo, and orange at random. It was lovely chaos.

Jack knew suddenly why and how it was there and felt sicker than he already did. This was raw emotion, made by the long fingered, elegant hands that spent their days filing and making coffee for often ungrateful people.

Ianto was sitting on the floor behind him. Jack noticed that his own feet had moved towards the wall as if in a trance.

"When did you do this?" Jack tried to keep his tone light but he knew that Ianto always could hear what he tried to hide anyway.

He heard the other man stand and walk towards him quietly until Jack could feel the pressure he always felt when someone was standing right behind him.

"The night Lisa died. The same time I bought this place. I've been living in the hub since I transferred here. I had a storage shed with all our things. I went and burned everything of hers and everything we shared before painting that because I couldn't sleep. The only things I didn't burn were mine before I met her and a box of pictures I just couldn't…"

Jack could hear the struggle in Ianto's voice, trying to hold back the grief when he talked about her. He turned and saw Ianto staring blankly at the wall, biting his lower lip to keep from speaking anymore.

Jack reached out and wrapped one of Ianto's hands in his, sharing warmth for the second time that night.

Ianto blinked down at their twined hands and finally met Jack's eyes, looking much more aware finally.

"Sir, didn't I shoot you?"

Jack tried not to laugh. The quiet polite way the question was said was very like Ianto.

"No you missed. But I'd really like it if you didn't try again. It bothers me."

Ianto's eyes narrowed, already suspicious.

"But I saw blood on the floor."

"Ianto I cut myself on something a few days ago and forgot it was there. You're exhausted and with the painkillers you're on I'm surprised you're still lucid. Let it go."

Ianto sighed, either choosing to believe Jack or knowing he wouldn't get anywhere with the conversation.

"Sir, is there a good reason why you're holding my hand?"

"First, you call me Jack when we're off duty like this. Second, you just came out of shock and you're cold. Third, I think I'm safe in saying we both feel like shit right now."

Ianto nodded wordlessly, starting to look even more like his normal self, his posture straight as possible without screaming in pain.

"Hey, relax a bit. You're so uptight all the time." Jack didn't notice when his hand that wasn't wrapped around Ianto's slid up the other mans back and rubbed gently at the tension it met.

Ianto tried to hide his sigh but Jack had been perfecting the art of reading people longer then Ianto had been alive. When Ianto let him continue the rubbing for a few seconds, he started to wonder how long it had been since anyone had actually touched the boy.

Ianto finally pulled away and headed towards a plain metal ladder that looked like it had been welded together from steel pipes.

"You haven't really said why you're here so I'm going to ignore you. If I eat anything I'm going to throw up and I do not trust you being in my house if I go to bed."

Jack laughed, watching Ianto scramble up the ladder with the graceful ease that comes with doing something over and over again. Half of the second story floor was intact but without an edge, leaving a sort of loft where he suspected Ianto slept. It was far too tempting to follow him up and see, but he settled for examining the first level instead.

The other three walls were just normal and painted black. The floor was black painted cement. Against the right wall was a faux leather couch, also black. Jack stepped over to where the basement was and looked down since it had no ceiling.

Ianto seemed to have turned it into a kitchen. Compared to everything else Jack had seen so far this room was hedonistic. It actually had a table and chairs that weren't black and a black rug on the floor. Another moment of looking revealed a metal ladder so he headed down, figuring this was the only place he might find anything to hint Ianto had a life besides Torchwood.

The rug squished under Jack's boots nicely when he stepped off the ladder. The steel table and chairs were in the corner to his left while the wall to his right was covered in glowing signs.

There was a green neon skull close enough to touch and a black-light heart next to it. Blue letters spelled out Ianto from where there should be a ceiling to the floor. The metal table, counter and fridge reflected the colored lights in muddled fragments.

A robot had once told Jack that blacks and brights did not compliment each other but he'd never really believed her. Now he definitely didn't.

"I thought if I ignored you you'd go away."

Jack glanced up and found Ianto staring down at him, his arms crossed carefully in front of his chest.

"Why would you want me to go away?"

Ianto only shrugged in reply.

"Come down here and talk to me."

"Is that an order Sir?"

"I already said we're both off duty. Relax a bit."

Ianto climbed down the ladder and walked past Jack towards the fridge, but froze when his hand touched the handle, staring at it like the metal had turned into a snake.

Jack moved towards him and uncurled Ianto's clenched fingers. He knew about this. Toshiko had needed to talk before she went home.

"Look," he said, opening the fridge door. "There's nothing in here."

Jack stopped and really looked. "There is nothing in here."

The only things in the fridge were a few red apples and some bottles of juice. It was pretty pathetic for someone's home.

"Ianto, aren't you supposed to eat?"

"I eat at the hub."

"That's not enough. You're already thin. Tomorrow go and buy some food."

Jack pulled out two bottles of juice and handed one to Ianto before taking a seat in one of the metal chairs. Ianto sat across from him and drank some, keeping his eyes on Jack.

"So, what's with the missing floors?" Jack started, hoping Ianto wouldn't find a way to give him a two word answer.

Ianto politely swallowed first before talking. Some things never change.

"The last person who owned it was a bit of a nutcase. He had the floors torn out like that and everything painted black. Committed suicide down here. All the owners have committed suicide. Everyone says it's haunted now so I got it cheap."

Jack blinked.

"So you're first choice of residence was a haunted house?"

Ianto shrugged.

"I was in a bit of a weird mood when I bought it. So far no ghosts though."

"If you go following the trend and committing suicide, I'll fire you."

Ianto smiled slightly. Success.

"I think I'd rather jump off a building or do it in the hub, but it is so peaceful in here, like a graveyard at night."

Jack felt little tendrils of cold trickle down his spine.

Jack's eyes locked on the other man who ignored him, lost in thought. The bottle of purple juice in Ianto's hand was half empty and his skin seemed to glow gold from the neon sun behind him but the black clothes he'd pulled on made him fade into the walls like he wasn't there. Jack reached out for Ianto's hand just to confirm the fact that he was real.

Ianto stared down as their fingers twisted together.

"You're holding my hand again."

"My reasons still stand. So what's with the lights?"

Ianto glanced behind him at the wall, his eyes lingering over every shape and color.

"I don't know. I had them in university. Found them in a box."

Ianto yawned suddenly, trying to hide it behind his other hand and failing. Jack stood and pulled him to his feet.

"Come on. You need to sleep."

Ianto didn't protest this time and climbed the ladders up when Jack motioned.

The loft was different then the rest of the house so far. It was carpeted again in black but decorated less like a gothic bar and more like a place someone lived. The left wall had a long closet that Jack could glimpse clothes and boxes inside and a clock that glowed softly around its roman numbers, showing that it was early night.

The bed was in the right corner, a twin size with the head and foot made of metal curves like the grace of modern art. Ianto was already in it, with his back to Jack and the huge window along the far wall that showed the city lights and the moon.

Jack moved silently towards the bed, running his eyes longingly over the way the cobalt sheets and black fleece blanket clung to Ianto, but settling for running a hand over the other man's hair and pressing a chaste kiss to his neck. Ianto shifted and murmured something in welsh.

It could have been I hate you or something about the cannibals or it could have been something about fluffy bunny rabbits, Jack would never know, but the tone made him think it was more an invitation, however unconscious.

He kicked off his shoes silently and lay down beside Ianto on top of the sheets, watching the light play with the shadows in the room. Ianto pressed back against him and his arms automatically went around his waist, pressing them together, heartbeat against heartbeat.

He glanced at Ianto's face, ignoring the bruises. The constant professional smile and worried frown were gone, leaving behind a guy who collected neon signs and lived in a haunted house because he could and was sleeping in someone's arms to whom he had promised a slow death.

Jack grinned to himself. He could work with that.


End file.
